Saving Her, Saving You
by CirqueDeLaGuerre
Summary: In Reno, Damon meets a young witch and employs her powers in opening Katherine's tomb. Predictable chaos ensues, as the two battle their emotions, mysterious Guardians, undead witches, vampire hunters, Stefan and Bonnie, and Katherine herself. Please, R&R
1. Midnight in Reno

Night had descended several hours previous over the bustling metropolis of Reno. Daylight had come and gone, and, by all estimates, the population should have retreated to its latent homes. However, great swaths of blazing neon lights still carved into blackened city blocks, illuminating the 'burg even at half past midnight, and a cacophony of assorted sounds rendered sleep nearly impossible.

Damon Salvatore reclined behind the tinted windows of his Mustang convertible, lurking in the inky shadows of a sprawling country club pool house. A raven with feathers of varnished charcoal perched unnoticed atop a windowsill, gazing out over the swarm of adolescents infesting the building. Had circumstances been as usual, Damon himself would have been the driving force behind such festivities as this classic party scene, but, since the destruction of Bonnie's necklace, his sunny exuberance had dampened significantly. Nevertheless, the reckless youth inside of him craved even the most meager of escapades, and so he had compromised with a pre-meditated feeding and homicide. His victim of choice, a stunning young woman fresh out of high school, exited the pool house with a chorus of shouted "good-bye"s and wearily started towards her car. From its vantage atop the till, Damon's raven croaked ominously, a knell which was ignored by the girl as she approached her vehicle.

Cat-quietly, Damon knelt, concealing himself behind a Volkswagen Beetle's hunched silhouette. Wickedly curved incisors protruded past his curved upper lip, and the veins surrounding his eyes tightened in anticipation. As the girl reached the driver's side door, Damon lunged, just as a frenzied series of explosives detonated in his mind. The blindsided predator fell, screaming muddled obscenities and inane expressions of agony. His would-be victim smiled maliciously, allowing him to writhe in potent mental anguish for a few moments longer before abruptly extinguishing the fiery torment.

"Who are you?" gasped Damon, clutching his violently protesting skull while rancor shone out through his eyes. "What did you do to me?"

The girl took a seat on the hood of her car, crossing her trim legs at the ankle. "Isn't it obvious? I'm a witch, and I just set off a series of aneurysms inside your brain," she responded cordially.

Damon sat up cautiously, his interest piqued. His thoughts flitted rapidly between this new threat and Bonnie Bennett, thoroughly comparing the two. This witch did not resemble Bonnie in the least, with a cascade of black hair the color of a moonlit night flowing down her back and eyes of a mesmerizing grey, but she possessed the same aurora of sententious confidence boasted by Bonnie. The confidence of an individual who has perceived no danger in the creatures of darkness, and exists knowing nothing supernatural can harm them.

"You've been following me for days," continued the witch scornfully. "Honestly, you should have better selected your target. Vampires are no threat to witches unless they catch us with our guards down."

"Thanks for the pearls of wisdom," grunted Damon, gingerly removing his hands from his head. "But, now that you've made an enemy of me, I might just do that."

"You won't."

"And why is that, Buffy the Vampire Slayer?"

"Vampires are impulsive. Normally, your anger would have made you attack me again, but you stopped wanting me dead the moment you found out I'm a witch. That, coupled with the fact that your mental defenses just doubled in strength, means two things. A), you want something from me, and b), you won't tell me what it is, yet."

"You're smart, Buffy. I might spare you."

"Attack me again, and I'll conjure up a wooden stake. Now, what is it you want, and why would you possibly think I'd help you?"

"I can read people, too. You'll help me because you're bored," explained Damon, the sneer evident in his tone. "I've been watching – I know. All those parties? The drinking? All the time spent lighting fires and stuff, which I now realize was experimenting with your powers? You're just trying to make your short, pathetic human existence interesting. Think about it: if you've known I was watching you, why wouldn't you kill me and be done with it? Because _you_ want something from _me_. Maybe the evil vampire has some sort of master plan. And if I do, you want in."

An interminable silence stretched on as the witch pondered Damon's words. It seemed a sort of conversation chicken between them; she did not want to be the first to shatter the silence, and she definitely did not care to admit that Damon's twisted proposal had intrigued her.

"Maybe I do want a bit of excitement," she conceded, and a satisfied grin played upon Damon's lips. "What would I have to do?"

Mentally celebrating his miniscule victory, Damon leaned on the girl's Volkswagen and began loftily, "So, I've got this friend. She's a vampire like me, and in the year eighteen sixty-four, a witch named Emily trapped her in a tomb underneath a church to save her life. The token used to seal the tomb was recently destroyed, but I've been told it can't be the only way to open the tomb. Apparently, a strong enough witch could get the job done."

Nodding slowly in accord, the witch called on a small fire and observed as it danced across her palm. "Okay…"

"Damon. Damon Salvatore."

"Okay, Damon. Can you promise me I'll be safe on this little adventure?"

A smirk, a mocking chuckle. "Nope. If I said otherwise, I'd be lying, and I'm not allowed to do that anymore."

The witch smiled, the dim light from her fire casting muted hues of orange cart wheeling across her features. "Good. Where is this tomb, exactly?"

"A small town called Mystic Falls, Virginia. Cute, quiet place, except for the recent outbreak of chaos and vampire attacks," replied Damon.

"Virginia? Never been there. Well, we'll need to stop at my apartment before we leave. I'm going to need a few things," said the girl matter-of-factly.

"Like what? Mascara? Nail polish? Tampons?"

"Like candles, herbs, clothes, my cat, and a very large amount of vervain," the witch corrected icily.

"What, you don't trust me?" inquired Damon, presenting a comical ruse of innocence and batting his dark eyelashes. A moment later, his frown returned. "Hang on. Your cat?"

"Yes. He's a Witch's Cat, and so he should be helpful." With a thunderous roar that was quite unanticipated considering its size and cutesy appearance, the Beetle erupted to life, and its occupant donned a refined jacket of crushed velvet.

"A what?" asked Damon, puzzled.

"A Witch's Cat. Witches have the ability to bond with a feline of their choice, and that animal becomes a sort of reservoir of back-up energy if they ever need it. Some cats can even perform weaker hexes on their own," said the girl.

"Okay, then. We'll bring the cat. Should I follow you in my car?"

"Yeah, unless you want to drive mine across the country." The witch emitted a dainty snort, patting her vehicle's dashboard affectionately.

"My car it is. Hey, I never asked, which is probably appropriate for me in terms of my usual rudeness – what's your name?"

"Celestial."


	2. Such A Fragile Bond is Trust

**Disclaimer**: I own none of this, with the exception of Rubin, Celestial, Sebastian, and my own take on the plot. Brownie points to whoever catches the minor reference to _Lost_ in this chapter.

**A/n**: Well, hi, everyone. Because I forgot to introduce myself and this story in the first chapter, I'm doing it here. This story involves one of my favorite OC's, and, if you don't want to hear about her, watch the episodes themselves. Also, I do not yet have anyone to beta-read my work, so if anyone would care to take that job, send me a message. Reviews and constructive criticism are always greatly appreciated. And, without further ado, enjoy.

Celestial's apartment, a capacious flat set in late eighteenth-century architecture, was brimming with what Damon referred to as 'freaky witch voodoo.' Thick wax candles adorned every available countertop, and the witch's desk threatened to collapse under the weight of its burden of tallow-paged spell books, assorted herbs, and what, at first glance, appeared to be an oversized fur hat. However, as Celestial rather unceremoniously banished it from her overflowing workspace, it was revealed to be a sleek feline with a glossy black pelt and insidious orange eyes. These oddly-hued orbs affixed themselves to Damon's face immediately, regarding him with practiced wariness.

Seemingly unaware of her pet's antics, Celestial hefted a bulging suitcase towards the door, narrowly avoiding the cat's anxiously twitching tail. Damon intercepted the projectile with ease, and leaned against the doorframe as Celestial collected samples of bottled spices, each with its own unique aroma.

"You live here alone?" he inquired, noting in the recesses of his mind the multitude of photographs cluttering the walls. Each snapshot was of various smiling, mirthful adolescents who seemed to be around Celestial's age. Most frequently starring in the images were a tall, gorgeous blonde, a boyish male often sporting comically styled hair, and a man in his early twenties who bore an almost frightening resemblance to Celestial.

"I live with my brother, Rubin," replied Celestial, absently gesturing to a picture. "My parents were killed four years ago, and he took me in."

"I see," lamented Damon, fumbling for a tone that conveyed at least a miniscule amount of empathy. It was not in his nature, though, to express repentance or apologize to even the loved ones of those he had personally murdered, and the alien taste of his words deterred him.

Footsteps approaching the apartment gradually became audible, causing Celestial to suck in a breath and dart to the window. Inexplicable tension flooded Damon's body, and he resisted a near-overwhelming urge to burst outside and confront whatever this potential hazard was.

"It's Rubin!" Celestial exclaimed, hastily bundling Damon, who still held her luggage in one hand, into her closet. Shutting the door, she peered at him through a thin slot in its pristine white wood. "I'll explain after he's gone. Please, you have to stay hidden. Don't come out until I tell you to."

Damon obeyed almost doggedly, settling back against a cushion of designer garments and stifling a yawn. His abnormally excellent hearing allowed him to be an audience of the conversation without viewing the bulk of it.

Presenting a ruse that her brother's arrival was merely a pleasant surprise, Celestial ran to greet him, momentarily exiting Damon's limited line of sight. The siblings embraced, and Rubin took a seat on his sister's bed. Damon's eyes glommed on to a suspiciously pointed wooden rod at his belt, and as he recognized the vervain-filled syringes beside it, he began to mentally formulate a desperate plot to escape.

"We found evidence of a new vampire in town," explained Rubin, instinctively fingering his stake.

"Really? You think you can find it?" Celestial asked, nonchalantly stepping in front of her closet and trying to appear as though she were pacing.

"Hopefully, but this one's not young. Seems like it's been around the block a few times. The only reason we discovered it is that one of its victims didn't burn long enough in the fire the thing started to dispose of the bodies. When we found it, the wounds were still visible," said Rubin.

Letting loose a tsunami of silent expletives, Damon berated himself for his own negligence.

Clumsy stunts like that are how vampires end up dead, he growled to himself. Moments later, a gentle but insistent prodding at his mind's defenses halted his thought process. Utterly befuddled, Damon felt an extension of power wrap around his brain, further shielding him from any who might pry. Realizing that whoever this was meant to aid him, he relaxed; perhaps Stefan had tracked him to Reno and was helping from afar.

"I would feel better if you left the city for a few days, just so I'd know you're safe," continued Rubin. "Go to Vegas or somewhere with Shannon and Sebastian, and I'll call you when we've killed the vampire."

"Vegas sounds good," responded Celestial reassuringly, squeezing her brother's shoulder. "I'll go, but you be careful, okay?"

"I always am." Rubin stood, giving the impression that a great burden had been lifted from his chest. He kissed Celestial's cheek, tied a lone silver charm on a leather thong around her slim wrist, and exited the apartment.

Celestial turned to release Damon from his prison, and found the door to her closet swung wide open. Backpedaling swiftly, she collided with the vampire, who steadied her with both hands.

"That's convenient –" she began, sounding chipper.

"So, that's how you know about vampires." Damon plucked a wooden stake from her bureau and studied it, miming thrusting it between a defenseless victim's ribs.

Exhaling, Celestial twisted the bracelet Rubin had presented her with around her forearm. "Yeah. A vampire killed Rubin's girlfriend two years ago, and this is his way of getting revenge." With that, the mysterious shields around Damon's mind unwound and fell away, synchronizing with a tiny flick of Celestial's fingers.

"It was you," he breathed wonderingly. Then, hearing the transparent gratitude in his voice, he reassembled the cryptic mask responsible for capping his human emotions. Something about this girl, he figured unhappily, made it all too easy for him to be himself.

"Rubin couldn't have found out about you. He'd have killed you."

' "Why wouldn't you let him?"

"Like you said, I'm bored," grumbled Celestial, proceeding towards the front door with her cat in her arms and her suitcase trailing in her wake. "And you're my ticked out of here. Now, are we going, or what?"

Both bewildered and fascinated by the witch's actions since their meeting, Damon could conjure up no other option but to follow.

_We're on our way, Katherine,_ he thought, glancing up at the stars that coated the sky in innumerable winking sheets. _I'll be there soon_.

Barren landscape flowed past in a daze of dry, Southern heat and intermittent assaults by the putrid stench of cattle ranches. During these eye-watering, gag-reflex-triggering attacks, Damon did his best to focus on the road ahead while Celestial shifted fitfully in her sleep. She had dozed off soon after their journey commenced, and now it seemed as though she would wake at any moment.

Rays of dawn's first sunlight pounced over the distant peaks of the Sierra Nevadas, sending shrapnel of brilliant orange and royal purple sparking across a formerly grey sky. An errant beam of light shot across Celestial's features, and she scrunched her nose and turned awkwardly in an attempt to avoid it. Her eyes opened sluggishly, and she brushed her hair from her face, combing through the tendrils of tangible midnight with her fingers as she went.

"How long was I out?" she mumbled incoherently.

"Six hours, give or take," replied Damon. "Your cat was crying about forty-five minutes ago. I don't know how it didn't wake you."

Reaching back, Celestial hoisted the soot-colored creature into her lap. A rumbling purr escaped its throat, and it burrowed its head into her armpit.

"Poor baby," she cooed. "Did the mean man wake you, Wicked?"

"Actually, I think I liked you better when you were asleep," groused Damon. In a brief tantrum of childish immaturity, the witch poked her tongue out through her teeth.

"Anyway," she huffed, suddenly businesslike. "What else can you tell me about the tomb?"

"I don't know much about it. It's underneath Fell's Church, the vampires are trapped behind a bunch of enchanted rocks, and only a witch can open it."

"Vampires, as in plural? How many of them are down there?"

"Twenty-seven, but we only need to wake one. The rest can rot there forever, as long as I get her."

"So it is a girl," observed Celestial. "Who'd have imagined you having a heart?"

"Shut up, Buffy."

"Be nice."

"I'm not nice," Damon informed her. Then, as his thoughts drifted back to Mystic Falls, he reported, "I should probably warn you; my brother and his bunch of human supporters will most likely try and stop us."

"Why?"

"Stefan's a goody-two-shoe. He doesn't want Katherine back because she's evil, she turned him into what he is, she manipulated him, yadda, yadda, yadda."

"And you do want her back?" asked Celestial, furrowing her brow.

"I love her." Came the terse response. Shards of sun glinted off Damon's ring as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Sensing his reluctance to continue their conversation, Celestial pushed a button on the radio and bobbed her head to some or other mainstream hip-hop mix. The tiniest inkling of a smirk graced Damon's mouth, and he decreased the volume with a flick of his wrist.

"If you don't let me listen to my music, this is going to be a _very_ long trip," warned Celestial.

"We're going all the way to Virginia, Buffy. It's gonna be a long trip no matter which way you swing it."

"Yeah, but you know what life has taught me, Damon? Sometimes, you've got to enjoy the ride."

"This, coming from someone who's joining a vampire she met seven hours ago on a dangerous trip to find _more_ vampires, confront another witch, open a tomb, and save a life, all because she's bored. If this were any more Hollywood, you'd fall in love while slaying dragons."

He earned a laugh, and had to pretend he didn't enjoy the sound of it. Because he was doing this for Katherine.


	3. Play it, Sam, but I forget how it goes'

**A/n**: I'm back! Managed to get this chapter written during an English lecture, typed up at home, and uploaded all before a family dinner. My apologies if Damon is slightly out of character in this chapter; I really tried to expose that playful, friendly side to him that the episodes only show when he's around Elena. The thing about Celestial is that she encourages that facet of his personality, which is why he was so instantly drawn to her.

No one has caught the _Lost_ reference in Chapter Two yet, so I'm still waiting. Reviews, as always, are better than chocolate. Chocolate-covered reviews would send me into nirvana. Enjoy!

"I figure we'll get to Mystic Falls by tomorrow afternoon," Damon informed Celestial as he strolled back into their shared hotel room, entirely laden with food. "So, I thought we'd celebrate."

Snatching a silver tray containing an unknown delicacy, Celestial gave Damon a smile which was returned without hesitance. Since the beginning of their voyage seven days previous, the duo had bonded with astonishing speed, having had hours with nothing more to do than become engrossed in each other's words. Celestial would sit, rapt, while Damon animatedly recounted the nineteen-forties and 'fifties, and then she would counter with her own tales of often amusing failed romances, petty drama, and inebriated joyrides thus far experienced. More often than not, the two would whittle their daylight hours away with an endless reservoir of conversation, and would only scout for somewhere to spend the night after Celestial reminded Damon that humans require more sleep than vampires. Such was their routine; a routine that was expected by both to skew once they reached Damon's hometown.

"You honestly hate me so much you want to celebrate the end of our road trip?" giggled Celestial, delicately biting into a colorful fruit-filled pastry Damon had recommended. Savory sweetness exploded across her tongue, and she closed her eyes for a moment in pleasure.

"I'm a vampire. It's kind of required of me to hate everybody," teased Damon, stretching out atop his bed and crossing his legs. In response, a disembodied morsel of fruit tart soared in an impressive arc through the air, hitting him on the nose, and Celestial cheered.

"I'm great at food basketball," she boasted, as Damon retrieved the scrap, stained violet with berry juice, and prepared to toss it back. Reconsidering, he popped it in his mouth with a devilish grin.

"You're mean." She hefted the slim, modern television remote with one hand and scanned the channels distractedly. Noticing her change in attitude, Damon rose with a grunt and sprawled full-length over her bedspread.

"What's wrong?" he asked, trapping her bare knee between his thumb and forefinger and squeezing gently.

Emitting a weighted sigh, she flipped off the power on the television. To Damon's unexpected delight, she allowed her knee to remain within his grasp.

"I'm a little worried," Celestial admitted sheepishly. "I mean, I don't know how strong your brother is, or how powerful Bonnie is. What if you or I get hurt?"

"Stefan doesn't drink human blood, so he's not as strong as I am. You brought me down with no trouble, so he shouldn't be any different," Damon comforted. He realized that he was indeed unshakably confident in her abilities and wordlessly pondered when he'd become so attached to the beautiful witch with the expertly concealed heart of gold.

Celestial allowed her misgivings to float away, touched by Damon's words. He was not the monstrous evil incarnate he wished to be perceived as, and Celestial believed that this Katherine woman must have been truly blessed to have gained his affections. In spite of only knowing him for several days, she felt a sense of accomplishment at having developed camaraderie with the masochistic vampire, although she wondered how long it would endure once Katherine was returned to him.

"What are you going to do when you get her back?" she inquired tentatively.

"I don't know, actually," chuckled Damon. "I'm not even sure she'll still love me."

"She will."

"How do you know?"

"You're risking your life to get her back. That should mean something to her," Celestial told him, gazing at a rabbit-shaped distortion in the ceiling overhead.

Damon fell quiet as Celestial flicked the light switch, plunging the room into impenetrable darkness. Sheets whispered and sighed as her pajama-clad form rolled onto its side, searching through the blackness for the approximate location of Damon's eyes.

"Goodnight, Damon," she murmured. "I'm glad we went on our road trip."

"Why?"

"I've never had a friend like you."

Despite being iron-clad in his decision to return to his own bed for fear of his less-than-friendly side emerging to take advantage of her vulnerable state, Damon was still unable to maneuver any further than the opposite end of her bed.

"That sign said, 'Mystic Falls, three miles'," Celestial pointed out, ruffling Wicked's ears.

"Good, we're almost there," replied Damon with false cheer. "Be ready – I have no idea what Stefan will do."

The two were silent until Damon pulled his Mustang into a charming, sun-bathed town that projected an air of comforting security. Aged structures with a twinge of the twenty-first century lined the streets, tiered like bleachers. Citizens walked peacefully along sidewalks bordered with festive, vibrant vegetation, and Celestial rolled down her window to catch a whiff of the plants' incredible perfumes.

"Such a pretty place," she breathed, and Damon made a sound of assent. Gravel crunched in accompaniment to the Mustang's engine as it wove through the dense greenery encompassing the Salvatore manor. It rose from the earth like a majestic pontiff, drawing an awed gasp from Celestial's lungs.

"You live _here_?" she choked out, her tone disbelieving. Her apartment in Reno would fit ten times over into this tremendous structure.

"Home, sweet home," muttered Damon, silencing his Mustang and proceeding around its now-dormant shape to open Celestial's door with a flourished, playful bow. Eyes twinkling, Celestial accepted his offered hand and climbed from the vehicle.

They had just reached the first step of the porch when the heavy front door burst open, revealing Stefan and two young women who had been described by Damon as Bonnie and Elena, respectively.

"Where have you been? Who is she?" Stefan demanded. His brother merely nodded to Celestial, who swiped aside Bonnie's attempt to prevent their entrance to the house as though it were wet tissue paper. Bonnie gasped, and Stefan's eyes widened marginally as he realized his brother's intentions with his new ally.

"You can't open that tomb –" he began firmly, but Damon interjected before he could finish.

"Yes, I can," he argued menacingly, "because my witch is better than your witch."

Celestial followed Damon into the house, hearing the door crash as they ascended the staircase.

"Stefan seemed okay," said Celestial, a cautious edge to her voice. "Maybe he's not going to try anything."

"He will," Damon reasserted, leading the way into a vacant bedroom. Absent from its walls were any sort of decorations, and it was not littered with evidence of an inhabitant in the manner of most rooms. "He just won't hurt you. Here, this is the guest room. You can sleep here."

"If he won't hurt me…" Understanding dawned on Celestial, and her expression morphed into one of horror. "You can't let him hurt you!"

"If he does manage to hurt me, I won't have let him," said Damon dryly, scooping up Wicked and depositing him on the bed.

"You expect him to attack you?"

"Yes, I do. Stefan refuses to harm innocent people, but I'm not innocent."

"Why, because you feed on and kill people? From what you've told me, so did he, at one time," countered Celestial.

"He's changed."

"So have you. Have you hurt anyone in the time I've known you?"

"No, but it's only been eight days."

"You have to start somewhere," Celestial told him softly, ghosting her fingers across his shoulder as a compromise for her desire to embrace him.

"But I've only been good these past few days because of you," explained Damon, turning away roughly. "It was the only way you'd help me get Katherine back."

Celestial's hand fell away as though she'd been shocked. "So, that's what this was? A lie to help you rescue your girlfriend?"

"No – I don't know, Cel. It was at first, but once I got to know you… I can't do this with you, because I actually like you. I don't often like people, especially humans or witches, but I like you. There's something about you that makes me want to be better. But I can't be close to you. I love Katherine."

"Don't worry," snapped Celestial, hating the tremor in her voice that belied her anger. "I'm going to open the tomb, because I gave you my word, but after that, I'll go back to Reno and you'll never see me again."

She slammed the door inches from his nose, and Damon headed down the stairs in search of a bag of blood, bumbling about within his mind to flip off the switch that controlled the gateway to his emotions.

**A/n**: An angsty conclusion to Chapter Three. Don't worry, they'll patch things up again before Katherine is freed and Cel is gone from Damon's life forever… Or will they?


	4. Affection Blinds, Like Lightning

**A/n**: Hello, many rabid readers (or, you know, four rather indifferent readers). This chapter has so far been my favorite. I'm not entirely sure why – maybe it's my attempt at an intense scene. Please, for the love of Wicked, review! And, as always, enjoy!

A lone flame twirled lavishly in an exotic dance atop a candle on the floor of Celestial's guest room. The witch relaxed, cross-legged, beside it, altering its hue from blinding azure to obsidian black to rose-tinted pink through an inarticulate chant. Wicked monopolized this new-found plaything greedily, prowling around it like a miniature panther, slashing his delicate, scythe-like claws through it with every startling change in color, and staring into its depths while his lithe form remained perfectly motionless. Unfortunately, this sinecure served as a pitiful distraction for Celestial, who had not emerged from the sanctuary of her room even as afternoon had turned to dusk and the sun bowed below the horizon. Stars spread in a magnificent, glimmering blanket through the blackened sky, but even they were rendered frivolous by the glorious full moon. Its light fell in a curtain to a patch on the floor, and Celestial moved to situate herself in its path. She drew from its tantalizingly endless power, inhaling sharply as a cloudy aurora shrouded her like a cloak.

"The things I could do with this power, Wicked," she breathed, welcoming the sensation of liquid moonlight tracing her veins as its excess shone out through her eyes, making their grey unusually bright. Wicked, thoroughly disinterested, continued manipulating the fire on his own.

Amused, Celestial stretched her mind's eye across the house, reassuring her inner concerns about Damon's safety. His room was impossibly dark, but she detected him soundly asleep in his bed. She was just about to withdraw her eye when she felt another presence enter the room. Its shape leaked inky shadows, evidencing its malicious intentions.

In an instant, Celestial had abandoned her position on the floor and raced through the mansion's corridors, and she paused at Damon's doorway. Her heart sounded out a rousing alarm in her ears as she stretched out her hand and flung it sideways. The attacker's body followed her movement, tossed against a far wall like a rag doll with a painful yelp. They struggled incessantly until Celestial wrested their weapon – a wooden stake – from their grasp and plunged it between their ribs.

"Stop, stop!" shrieked Elena, blazing into the room with Bonnie at her heels. "That's Stefan!"

Damon shot from his bed and turned on the lights, raking the occupants of the room with an accusing gaze.

"So, Stefan did try to kill me," he summarized grudgingly. Stefan let out an agonized groan, sinking to the hardwood floor and scrabbling uselessly at the blood-soaked stake protruding from his stomach. Witnessing his torment, Bonnie unleashed a raging inferno to attack Celestial, who deftly evaded the onslaught and quelled it with a flick of her hand. In retaliation, she conjured a servine whip of pure electricity and brandished it threateningly. Elena and Bonnie retreated to stand beside Stefan, who was still unable to remove the stake.

"Give me your word that you'll leave Damon alone, and I'll release the spell on the stake," Celestial commanded, with an offhand twitch of her whip, which hissed and crackled as if in agreement.

"We will!" gasped Stefan. Without looking to Damon for consent, Celestial discarded the simple yet powerful hex binding the wood to Stefan, and it fell away with a clatter. Wheezing, Stefan clambered to his unresponsive feet in a contrived effort, and trudged away. Elena and Bonnie glanced distrustfully at Celestial before acting as Stefan's crutches and helping him from the room.

"Are you all right?" asked Celestial hesitantly, hovering about next to a bare-chested and disheveled but still dashing Damon. The vampire gazed at her with an unfathomable expression in his eyes until she was forced to wave a hand in front of his face to divert his attention.

"I'm fine," he dismissed, turning to the electrical whip coiled, serpent-like, at her feet. "That thing is seriously awesome."

Celestial curled the sparkling leather around her torso, somehow impervious to its harmful properties. "I know. I think I'll keep it around."

"Anyway," Damon started, running his fingers anxiously through his thatch of dark hair. "Thanks, you know, for saving me. I guess I was a real damsel in distress, huh?"

Accepting his tacitly universal apology, Celestial nodded, the corners of her lips lifted by a smile. "At least you're a pretty girl."

"Pretty?" Damon feigned offence. "I'm stunningly sexy. Gorgeous. I model for Victoria's Secret. Hell, I'm prettier than you."

"You say that like it means something."

"It does," he corrected her quietly. For the longest moment, the two were still, until Celestial stepped back and cleared her throat superfluously.

"I'm going to go grab my stuff," she said hastily, clumsily stumbling over her own feet as she proceeded to exit the room.

"Why?"

"I'm sleeping in here tonight. I don't trust Stefan," she called with unneeded volume, knowing that Stefan could hear her from wherever he'd receded to. A hushed laugh was her only response.

"Where'd you learn all that witchy stuff?" Damon's voice, gravelly with sleep deprivation, reached Celestial from his place upon the rug below her. In a fit of chivalry, he'd insisted that Celestial sleep in his bed, which smelled enticingly of wild things, cinnamon, strangely enough, and Damon himself.

"From my mother, mostly," she replied, stroking a hand languidly across the satiny fur on Wicked's spine. "She was amazing at this kind of stuff. I mean, she had mastered spells that I wouldn't dare to attempt even now."

"I find that hard to believe," Damon scoffed. "Some of that stuff you can do – the whip, pinning Stefan to a wall, the mental eye thing – is unbelievable. Remember the look on Bonnie's face when you trumped her defenses when you first met? Not even she could believe your strength."

"Thanks, Damon," Celestial laughed. "But if you think I'm strong, you should see some of the things Rubin can do."

"Ah, Buffy the Vampire Hunter's alleged brother, who also hunts vampires. You come from a rather intimidating family." Damon was rewarded with another laugh, a peal of bells that prompted a chuckle of his own.

"Rubin hasn't called yet," Celestial told him. "They're probably still trying to find you."

"Unless they're waiting right outside and you haven't sensed them yet, I wish them luck."

Celestial crossed her arms and pillowed her skull on them, utterly content. She was oddly relieved to have patched things up with Damon, and she'd glimpsed that kind, uninjured facet to his personality he preferred to keep hidden when he'd given her his bed. _Maybe_, _just_ _maybe_, she hoped, _I can save more than one life with this little adventure_.

"Night, Cel," whispered Damon, causing Celestial to jump slightly. "I've never had a friend like you, either."

As Damon drifted off, not realizing that Celestial had been, in fact, awake, and had heard him, 'his' witch beamed so radiantly that, even in sleep, she appeared unusually blissful.

**A/n**: Damon and Celestial have rekindled the flames of their friendship (and maybe something more?), and I couldn't be happier with the results. Unfortunately, since I'm writing here, expect some more rough waters ahead. Please, let me know if Damon seems out of character. I'm trying to stay as true to his personality as possible, but I'm also shedding light on a side of him that hardly anyone gets to see. Thanks!


	5. Guardians

**A/n**: Hello, all. I'm not entirely sure what to make of this chapter, because it's supposed to be a shorter piece to demonstrate the guardians of the tomb. Next chapter will be fairly tricky, and will tie up all several loose ends – perhaps; some reviews would stimulate my thoughts. Please? Pretty please, with a shirtless Damon on top?

Little, Brown books (ha, don't I wish) and I proudly present to you, Chapter Five. Enjoy.

Birds circled above a canopy of tree tops, actively rotating through their hunting cycle in search of sustenance for the ravenous offspring awaiting their return to their nests. However, one particular avian seemed significantly less dedicated to successfully completing his task than his companions. He was an agile thing, though the downy feathers of youth still crowned his fledgling wings, and he strayed from his designated area, performing a series of spectacular aerial flips and corkscrews before diving past his elders and into the forest below. None of his flock pursued him as he weaved with plotted grace and choreography between resolute oak after oak, finally halting to perch atop what his primitive mind considered to be a bizarre rock formation. Massive boulders sat stagnantly on a hollowed patch of earth, coated in vibrant moss and partially eroded after several hundred years of abandonment. Strangely enough, no creatures dwelled here, despite the shelter offered by the many jutting ledges and inviting snake-holes. This settlement was largely avoided by the animal kingdom because, unbeknownst to the young bird currently preening upon it, twenty-seven sinister beings were incarcerated in a tomb below the ground. Although they were unaware as to what exactly lurked beneath the remains of Fell's Church, the animals responded appropriately to the potent sense of foreboding and left the tomb in relative peace.

Concealed by a thick blackberry bush, a predatory feline stalked its innocent victim, tail lashing back and forth as its muscles tensed. With a great leap, the cat soared, slicing through the air until it reached its intended target. Its jaws closed around the bird's neck, and one sudden, sideways twist finished the bird off. Satiated, the cat gnawed on its prize, as two humanoid forms emerged from the trees.

"He caught a bird," observed Damon, with a pang of pride. "He's all ready a nice hunter."

Celestial, not nearly as pleased, wore an expression of revulsion as Wicked trotted to her and reverently placed his kill at her shoes. Both wings had been torn asunder and, somewhere amongst the macabre mass of gore and once-bright feathers, glassy orbs stared sightlessly at the sun. Such was the pattern of life and death, but Celestial could not eradicate a nagging question: Is this how Damon views his prey? Are the humans he's murdered nothing more than birds to him?

"And Wicked found Fell's Church," Damon added, skimming his hand along the frigid surface of an ivy-twined stone. His voice beckoned Celestial from her private ponderings, and she scrutinized the guts of the church warily. No entrance or partial chamber, half-submerged in soil, made itself immediately apparent, prompting a lengthier excursion into its depths.

"Son of a bitch," spat Damon venomously, as a conveniently pointed branch dug relentlessly into his side. The two, along with Wicked, had descended into a pit a mere five feet from one of the church's skeletal structures and were disheartened to discover not only that it contained nothing of value, but also that its walls proved impossible to scale.

"How are we supposed to get out of here?" Damon groaned, viciously ripping the offending branch from its position. It came free with a tremendous crack and a shower of rocks, sending fist-sized stones tumbling into the pit. Knocking them away, Damon yanked Celestial behind him as an entire section of the ground collapsed to reveal a capacious room directly beneath the church.

"Nice one," exclaimed Celestial, bounding away from Damon and cautiously entering the room. Amazingly, it was conceivably sound from an architectural standpoint, seeming to belong more in the French Catacombs than an isolated cavern in Virginia.

"Look at this, Cel." Gesturing to a faded image imprinted in the north-facing wall, Damon appeared oddly enthusiastic. Celestial brushed away the layers of filth obscuring the pictograph, revealing it to be a perfect replica of an ancient pentagram. "I think we found it!"

"We did," she affirmed, experimentally probing the numerous jinxes operating simultaneously to keep the tomb sealed. They held, unyielding, without a response to her advances. Irritated, Celestial shouldered them aside, only to have them snap back into position a moment later. A fist, assembled from darkness, appeared from the soil and dealt a withering blow to her skull, sending Celestial reeling as fireworks exploded behind her eyes. Faintly, she heard Damon yell something – her name, perhaps – as the world abruptly went black.

Bricks. Dozens upon dozens of bricks pressed their full weight onto Celestial's head, rousing her from her catatonic stupor and into a realm of throbbing aches and soreness. Emitting an imploring moan, she writhed to and fro until a chilled cloth soothed the burn seizing her forehead. Her eyelids peeled back unhurriedly, and black spots danced about her until a shadowed face contorted into some semblance of clear view. Worry marred otherwise flawless features, and Celestial felt a hand tenderly cup her chin.

"D-Damon?" she croaked, arching her back as another painful seizure wracked her body. A keen escaped her lips, and Damon wrapped his arms around her, holding her until the torture subsided.

"It shouldn't hurt this much," she sobbed softly. "Was only a bump on the head."

"Witches are creepy," stated Damon, easing himself further back into his cushions. "They can pretty much do whatever they want."

"True," conceded Celestial, wearily pillowing her head upon his chest. Puzzled, she turned to study him. "Why are you here?"

"That's a very vague question," chastised Damon. "Here, in Virginia? Or here, in this bed?"

"Don't take this in a dirty way, but why are you in bed with me?"

A tiny, hastily disguised scoff. "Because you're hurt and because I care? If this were me, you'd be running around trying to be a magical Florence Nightingale. Admit it."

When Celestial failed to respond, he continued, "You're my friend. The only true friend I've had since I was human, and I don't think I could stand it if those spells turned you into a vegetable. A really attractive, sometimes aggravating vegetable, but a vegetable all the same.

"When I saw you fall, I was there in a sixteenth of a second to catch you. The room was shaking and I was sure we were both going to die, but suddenly it stopped. For some reason, those witch spirits – or whatever it is guarding that tomb – let us go. I swear I felt something watching me catch you, and it watched me take you away from there."

"Any idea what it could be?" inquired Celestial weakly.

"None whatsoever. But, whatever it is, I owe it for the rest of my eternity, and for all the time after that."

Putting forth a massive effort to raise her head, Celestial met his gaze directly. Mystifying, beautiful grey coupled with passionate, ocean-blue, and both vampire and witch wondered at how difficult a task getting air into their lungs had become.

"Why?" she whispered, her lips a hair's breadth from his. Concentrating on her as a whole and not on her unintentionally beguiling appearance, Damon willed himself to reply.

"Reasons," he huffed brusquely, pressing his forehead into hers. "Couldn't let my witch helper die, now, could I?"

Rolling her gaze heavenward with an unspoken prayer for patience, Celestial returned her head to his chest and mentally repeated the mantra: 'Boys are stupid.'

**A/n**: I'm horrid and I know it (to be sung to the tune of 'Sexy and I Know It').


	6. Family Bonds Run Deep

**A/n**: I'm back! Sorry for the long hiatus. Things have been crazy for me, what with home, and school, and my own stories…

Enough explanations. I present to you, chapter six. Please, for the love of chocolate, review. I'm begging, here.

"Food for the hermit," announced Damon, striding purposefully into his own bedroom, where Celestial had carpeted the pristine hardwood floor with enormous, dog-eared spellbooks and discolored parchments. As the day had progressed, she'd migrated in a warped algorithm document to ancient document, scrying for the merest nugget of information regarding the ferocious entities protecting Katherine's tomb. Predictably, though, none of the entire rainforest of papers encircling her proffered any aid, and the guardians remained shrouded in mystery.

"The hermit is useless; she doesn't deserve food," Celestial lamented. Beside her, Wicked rose from his procured nest of discarded literature and immediately glued himself to Damon's legs, gazing up at his newly discovered hero imploringly. "Feed the cat instead."

Exasperated, Damon claimed a deserted section of the floor, one that was oddly devoid of any of the innumerable reject works Celestial had mowed through. He placed a decorated brown bag at her hip, where its enticing aroma would effortlessly reach her. "The hermit wouldn't refuse two freshly-baked muffins from Starbucks, would she?" he inquired, seductively tracing the opening of the bag with a fingertip.

Wordlessly, Celestial snatched Damon's offering, pawed through its contents, and withdrew a single chocolate-chip muffin. Smiling graciously, she morsel from its head and tossed it between her jaws.

"You manipulated me with Starbucks, you horrid man," sniffed the witch, as if miffed by Damon's treachery. In response, Damon feigned wounded offense, clambering to stand. He endeavored to evade the feline apparently surgically attached to him, and instead ended up sprawled without an inch of grace across Celestial's workspace.

The witch observed with amusement as his skull fell conveniently into her lap. "You did that on purpose," she reported airily.

Disarmingly azure eyes wide with childlike innocence, Damon replied, "Me? Never. Why would you think that?"

"Vampires don't trip."

"Not even when there's a cat trying to braid itself to one's legs?" pressed Damon.

"No," maintained Celestial resolutely, assembling the parchment Damon had displaced with a flourished swish of her wrist. One such work fluttered to perch precariously atop Damon's thatch of dark hair, but was promptly removed before he could decipher its text.

"Nothing in any of these about the tomb witch-spirit things?" asked Damon, as Celestial brushed his tangled mane back from his features. The insistent weight of him cradled against her thighs was a foreign pleasure to Celestial, and she became so rapt in her intimate reverie that Damon was forced to repeat his inquiry.

"Huh?" Fantasy rather rudely interrupted, Celestial spoke as a rose-tinted blush tinged her cheekbones. "Oh! No, unfortunately," she stammered, "nothing yet. I'm afraid our only option is to go back and try to gather some information, because, at this point, I don't know what to look for."

A potent pang of angst pervaded Damon's body at her words, stiffening his limbs and clouding his thoughts. In his mind, the image of a stricken Celestial crumpling to the ground, sans even the strength to clutch her head of break her fall replayed over and over until it ran without cessation through his brain, a sort of grotesque, personal horror film.

"You can't," he stated dumbly. "Remember what happened last time, or did the crushing blow to the cranium give you amnesia?"

Celestial leaned over to regard him, perplexed. "I'm fine now. This time, I won't mess with the spells. I'll be there to observe. Why are you so worried?"

"Whatever got you the first time will obviously still be there, and it's not a force to be reckoned with. I don't want to see you hurt again, is all."

"Then I'll have to be stronger, in case it does attack." Celestial's tone was jovial, as though they were discussing a daytime outing to the neighborhood park.

"How do we make you stronger?" wondered Damon.

"There are ways. We'd go at night, so I could draw power from the moon and stars. I've never tried to take from both at once, but I figure it'd at least be of some assistance," she explained, absently caressing Damon's hair. Allowing his eyelids to flutter shut, he reveled in the sensation of her feather-light touch, and it was only through stern concentration that he was able to bear witness to Celestial's next words.

"We could 'upgrade' Wicked tonight, so he could help us tomorrow," she suggested, trying not to project her unease to Damon.

"Upgrade?" he murmured sluggishly.

Ruffling her pet's ears with her free hand, Celestial said, "Yeah, an upgrade. I transfer the power from tonight's moon to Wicked, sort of, like, refilling the reservoir of power he is. It's a permanent transition, so it requires a lot of energy from me. Which is why we'd need to hold off on going back to the tomb until tomorrow."

Imprisoning her dainty hand between his own in an effort to prevent her touch from lulling him into an untimely slumber, Damon replied, "Okay, cool. You do that. Should be good for Wicked."

No further conversation passed between the two, as the sky outside gradually morphed from blinding summer blue to magnificent gold. Afternoon transitioned into early evening, and still the two relaxed, statuesque, simply marveling in the unexpected situation they'd found themselves in. Toying ardently with Celestial's fingers, Damon examined their strengthening friendship from each possible angle. Trust in another was not instinctive for him, and yet he found himself lying absolutely prone in the arms of a witch, hosting absolutely no qualms about their position. Their comfortable intimacy astounded and beckoned him, for such closeness was never something he'd had with Katherine. Judiciously, he halted his thoughts, refusing to even consider his witch and his vampire on the same spectrum. Celestial was intrinsically genuine, without an agenda of manipulation. She represented pure, unadulterated radiance and beauty without adopting negative evolutions of such traits. With each passing day, she challenged Damon to grow and change, and, with her, his nearly one-hundred and fifty years of homicidal malevolence dissipated to an adolescent phase. Katherine, as the spurs behind his existence as a vampire, was a collage of lust and animalistic passion, and she could not be cast into the wind and forgotten. Damon's love for her had endured for more than a century, and he was determined for it to weather the impending weeks. Friendship could be cultivated and treasured, but it would not, proclaimed Damon, eclipse love.

There, he thought, satisfied. I've made up my mind. I just need to get my heart and mind working on the same frequency.

"What're you thinking about?" inquired Celestial, doughy crumbs tumbling from her lips. Much to Damon's jubilance, she'd consumed the first muffin and was halfway through the second. "Seems pretty deep. Too deep for your two brain cells to contemplate alone."

Smirking, Damon wiped the crumbs from his shirt to rid himself of what he'd coined, a week or so ago, as her 'cooties'.

"My two brain cells are doing just fine, Buffy," he shot back, a devilish glimmer in his eye.

"Just checking," she giggled, and Damon noted another patch of cherry dancing across her cheeks. "It's almost time to cast the spell for Wicked."

"Has it really been that long?" Damon glanced through his windows and was greeted by a vibrant orchestra of orange and red hues.

"Yeah. You were out for a while, or so I thought, but then I realized you were just thinking. For two hours."

"I'm sorry, Buffy. I guess I zoned out. What've you been doing all this time?"

"Thinking," she informed him vaguely.

"About?"

"I'll tell you when you tell me."

"Katherine," he said smugly. "And you."

"Why?" she queried. "Are we very alike?"

"Not at all. You're complete opposites. Haven't I told you that before?"

"Probably," laughed Celestial.

"Forgetful," chastised Damon, tapping her nose in a lone, staccato beat. He rose slowly, stretching languorously before helping Celestial to stand. "Want dinner?"

"Hell, yes," she affirmed.

"What should I bring, since I'm the one who goes to procure food in this friendship?"

Eyes glinting strikingly, Celestial said, "Surprise me."

Stefan lounged against the doorframe of Damon's bedroom leisurely, scrutinizing Celestial with adept dark eyes. The witch returned his intense stare unswervingly, and it was at once obvious to Stefan what had his snarky elder brother so enamored with her. Corporeal midnight cascaded in elegant waves past her shoulders, framing her aristocratic features and intellectual grey eyes flawlessly, and her rosebud mouth naturally fashioned into a sensual pout. However, were Stefan correct in his assumptions, it was the intelligence behind those mystifying eyes that had sent Damon's formerly misplaced humanity into a tailspin. Though he was not in harmony with Damon's mission to retrieve Katherine, he wanted to meet the young woman who was single-handedly responsible for exposing Damon's compassion.

"Damon went out to get dinner," Celestial said urbanely. She observed her visitor through lidded orbs of the deepest silver, her stance unperturbed yet somehow cat-like. At her side, Wicked paced with his hackles bristling, inherently skeptical of all vampiric company with the exception of Damon, whom he'd come to view as a surrogate second caregiver.

"I'm aware," replied Stefan, his manner cordial. "I came to talk to you."

Celestial hummed in languid disbelief, moving to recline against the opposite wall. With amusement, Stefan noted the ineffectual scrap of sunlight she'd placed between them.

"Come to get revenge on me for staking you three days ago?" she inquired frankly.

"No. I wanted to ask you about Damon," reproved Stefan.

"What about him?"

"I'm sure he told you about Katherine," began Stefan. "How she turned the two of us, how she manipulated us, how she used Damon's love for her against him."

Inclining her head marginally in tacit agreement, Celestial gestured for him to continue.

"Why, in spite of all the horrible things she's done, would you help him get her back?" Stefan sought to know.

"Damon's love, in its purest form, is one of the most remarkable things I've ever known. It's not natural for him to hate or to lie or to spurn, yet his experiences have made it so that he does these things without thinking. He gave Katherine all he had to give, everything from his soul to his strength to his future, wore his heart on his sleeve, and she failed him. When he woke as a vampire, she wasn't there for him, and originally he believed she wasn't at fault, because she was locked in the tomb. But, when Emily told him that she'd been compelling you two the entire time, that her love for him was a lie, it tore him to pieces. He'd given up his human life and his family for a lie. So he abandoned the aspects of humanity that tricked him into loving Katherine, and turned to a life of solitude and bloodlust. Just so he would never have to fall in love and be hurt by someone again.

"Despite all of this, he is devoted to Katherine still. He is one of the few people I know who can love unconditionally and with eternal loyalty. Hell, I bet that if my brother, Rubin, found out where I've been these past few weeks and who I've been with, even he would disown me. I want to preserve what I've found in Damon, because it's a quality so few people possess. If he gets Katherine back, the worst case scenario is that he finally gets closure, and I'll be around to ensure that what he learns fixes the broken bits of his heart. Best case is that he gets what he wants, he learns to love again, and all is well," explained Celestial, although a minor alteration in her previously sublime countenance gave the impression that, were Katherine returned to Damon, all would not be well. Stefan appeared to distinguish this change with a grain of salt, though in his mind he tucked the information away for a more appropriate time.

"Did I surprise you?" asked Celestial, effectively dissipating the silence of Stefan's pause. Furrowing his chiseled brow, Stefan crossed his arms over his chest and addressed her amiably.

"You did, actually," he said. "It's very honorable of you to do this. I suppose I owe you my thanks for saving my brother. Even though you stabbed me in the gut with a stake."

Scoffing, Celestial scooped Wicked into her arms to prevent him from making a potential meal out of Stefan's shoelaces. The feline protested fervidly, his wails reverberating through the immense halls of the manor, and Celestial began to anticipate his transition into upgraded Witch's Cat-hood all the more fervently.

"That wasn't my original motive, mind you," Celestial told Stefan, running a hand down the satin of Wicked's fur to suppress his cries. "I was living in Reno, and I spent my days practicing advanced witchcraft – that I probably wasn't ready for and could have gotten me killed – and my nights drinking at parties. I was bored with my life, because something's always told me that human existence isn't for me. This probably sounds crazy, but I feel like I was meant for something greater. So, when Damon showed up, I thought, 'Hey! This could be my chance to finally have an adventure to be proud of!' And so I went with him."

"Let me get this straight," chuckled Stefan, the corners of his mouth quirking in a grin. "You joined a vampire on a dangerous journey just because you were bored with being human?"

"I was pretty depressed, Stefan," erupted Celestial indignantly. Directly following her outburst, her expression grew brooding and dejected, and she affixed her gaze to her shoes. "Figured I'd either get the thrill I was looking for, or die trying."

Combating an urge to cross the room and comfort her, Stefan elected to travel the safer path and cheer her with humor. "That's something I can see Damon doing," he said truthfully, mentally recounting several instances in which Damon had endeavored to do something similar. Due to the farcical nature of his antics, the majority of the instances had ended with Damon either being dissuaded by Stefan, or lying wounded in a ditch somewhere for a night while enraged townspeople called for his blood. He had only actually succeeded four times, in some of his tamer ventures. Inexplicably, Stefan found himself willing to be a succor to Celestial as she strived to achieve her aims, and he told himself it was because he did not care to see this innocent, juvenile blossom taking Damon's place, bleeding out precious lifeblood in a ditch.

"Thanks for listening." Celestial was oddly relieved to be rid of the albatross her inner musings had been. She felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her chest by an invisible hand. "I guess I really needed to talk to someone who isn't Damon, for a change. Don't get me wrong, Damon's incredible, but if he heard about the whole desperate impulses thing…"

"My brother can be a bit overprotective," granted Stefan lightheartedly. "He'd put you on suicide watch. I'm glad you can joke about it now, though."

"I'm like that," said Celestial breezily. "I just brush things off."

Cocking his head ever so faintly, Stefan tuned in to the grating roar of Damon's Mustang upon their winding driveway. "Speak of the devil. Now that he's home, I should probably be going. Before he gets the wrong idea and snaps my neck." Pivoting to quit the room, he called over his shoulder, "Oh, and I wouldn't count your brother out just yet. The bonds of family run deep."

Meditating the double meaning of his parting words, Celestial sat, confiding in Wicked's consoling, stuffed animal-like presence, until Damon entered the room, waving imperiously as though expecting fanfare.

"Howdy, hermit!" he greeted exultantly, swinging arms entirely laden with bags of fattening produce marked 'Wendy's'. "I brought chicken sandwiches, and a fish filet for Wicked."

"You're a genius," declared Celestial, setting two of the plastic bags upon the hardwood floor and embracing Damon. At first, his body stiffened in response to the alien contact, but he softened after a moment, relocating his hands to her hips and dancing her forward a few paces.

"And you're surprisingly affectionate right now," he murmured into her crown. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but, why?"

"I like our road trip adventure," Celestial told him quietly. "Also," she breathed, her breath fanning out over the shell of his ear, "don't go all Terminator on him, but I talked to Stefan."

Exhaling tetchily, Damon pressed, "And?"

"And, we actually had a conversation. I think, deep down, he wants to help us."

"Stefan? Be helpful? Well, for anyone else, it would make sense. But he would never help me."

"He told me that the 'bonds of family run deep', Damon. You are his brother, and he hasn't forgotten that."

"Interesting," mused Damon, giving the impression that this conversation would be soon forgotten. "Eat now, or after the upgrade ritual?"

Expressing her disillusionment towards a prospective brotherly reunion with a sigh, Celestial replied, "After. I'm gonna need food for energy."

**A/n**: Some lovely Stefan/Celestial bonding in this chapter! Don't worry; he's not going to get in the way of Damon/Celestial… that's entirely up to Katherine.


	7. Sworn Enemies

**A/n**: A new chapter after only two days? I must be insane... No, I'm pretty sure it's simply because I have no life. Please review, and inspire me to continue. WillI keep writing? Only reviews will tell.

"It's time," breathed Celestial, inhaling the crisp aroma of the uniform forest surrounding her. She stood amidst a great circle of candlelight that seemed to sway to the sweet music of the wilderness as a domineering crescent moon cast illusory tendrils of sequined silver along her body. The gown she'd donned in preparation for the ritual, a waterfall of translucent snowy material, billowed about her thighs, ensuring that Damon was endlessly thankful for the night's playful breeze. From his improvised throne atop a mammoth branch of a conifer, he would be able to observe the spellcasting in its entirety without being near enough to interfere. It had been quite the monumental enterprise, placating Damon into allowing the proceedings to occur as they may, without him being literally in the center of them, and so Celestial basked in the glow of her microscopic triumph as Damon's gaze set her skin aflame.

Goose pimples swarmed her limbs like wildfire, only partially due to the frigid temperature out of doors, and Celestial wished she had heeded Damon's earlier advice and added a jacked to her ensemble. But, tradition had prevailed, and she, mimicking her ancestors from centuries before, conducted her ceremony clad in a garment designed to expose the body to as much moonlight as possible. Of course, Damon's constant ogling stoked the flames of pleasure inside her; although she doubted these fires would be effectual were her exoskeleton to freeze.

Wicked looked on with clueless engagement as a trio of spirits, summoned and dictated by Celestial, swirled about him as he was gifted with a great gout of pure power, which sang with possibility. A blizzard of moonbeams obscured the feline's diminutive form as Celestial barked out commands to her unearthly minions. Delving into his exceptionally limited knowledge of 'witchy business', Damon determined all was well. In the next instant, though, the darkness spawned several ebony figures that oozed undeniable discontent. Shadows crested from their outstretched, hand-like appendages, withering Wicked's moonlit shield through plain contact. Celestial endeavored to confront these new-found foes, leaping from her ring of candles and yelling belligerently. One of the darkly crafted creatures, easily the bulkiest, turned to dispute her. Liquid obsidian collided uproariously with Celestial's unleashed curtain of flowing ivory, letting loose a thunderous crash as combat between the two commenced.

"Celestial!" snarled Damon, the bellicose facet to his persona emerging as he dropped from his perch and spurted towards his witch. His upper canines had extended to about half again their size, and his eyes were illuminated by compelling abhorrence.

"Stop!" Her voice rent the sky with such passion, Damon's heels sent clumps of soil soaring as he skidded to a halt. The brief battle had arrived at an impasse, with Celestial staring daggers at the fiends, who had apprehended Wicked and shoved him in an inky prison.

"They say if you come any closer, they'll sever my connection to the moon and kill Wicked," hissed Celestial dismally. A miniature hurricane raged about her, evidencing her fury. Lightning poured from the chaos of disembodied storm clouds and thrashing raindrops, quickly assembling into Celestial's servine plasma-whip. She wielded it with the menacing grace of a master, flicking it offhandedly and sending the black wraiths skittering to evade its sting.

"What do they want?" demanded Damon, flexing his iron-banded arms in absent anticipation. The fiends glared searingly in his direction, and he emitted a rumbling growl from deep in his chest.

"They were once witches," said Celestial wonderingly. "They know what I'm helping you to do, and they came to tell me to stop."

"Aw, citizens of humanity," simpered Damon, exposing his aching fangs. "Will they kill Wicked if you don't?"

A distinctively feminine voice, amplified as though three women spoke, rained from the heavens, causing the fiends to sink closer to the earth in worship.

"Sisters must be allowed to make their own decisions," intoned the voice. "We merely wish to help our sister to see the error of her ways. Vampires, creatures of evil, have been the sworn enemies of witches since their creation. They are unnatural, and are required to consume the essence of humanity in order to survive. Such beings should not be allowed to exist. It is the decree of Nature, and we, as servants of Nature, must heed it. This young one has strayed, yet, because of the mercy of Nature, she can right her wrongs and return to her life as it should be. Her brother is on the correct path. She should mirror him."

"The lion preys on the gazelle for no other reason than to sate its hunger and support its community," alleged Celestial solemnly. "It does not kill for sport or entertainment, and many of the vampires I've met live the same way. They take what they need to sustain life; no more, no less. Only a few have strayed from this lifestyle. Damon was one of this few, but, in the days he has been in my company, have you seen him take a life? I believe that I, though not in the same manner as Rubin, am doing humans a service by keeping him contained. I am preventing the murders of countless innocents by befriending him."

"It's true," championed Damon, "I haven't killed since that night in Reno. Celestial is," his countenance broadcasted affection and hushed ardor, belying the emotions he quashed for Katherine's sake, "the kindest, most honorable person I've ever known. She doesn't hate me just because I'm a vampire, which is totally new to me. I have a whole new respect for humans – and witches – because of her. She's helping me find my humanity. And that, in of itself, is saving lives."

"Vampires don't have to kill to survive," continued the witch, as her undead enemies recoiled in baffled quiet. "So what if they drink blood? As long as they're not causing any lasting harm, why shouldn't they live amongst us?"

Wicked plummeted to land amongst the foliage sprinkling the forest floor as his cage abruptly dissolved. One of the more impotent threats drifted forward until Celestial could feel the frosty waves radiating from it. It paused, and from its pitiless depths projected a single mind-phrase, one Damon was unable to catch. Celestial gazed at it, her facial appearance a manifest of awe, as it joined its companions in marching in disciplined formation into the impenetrable darkness of the woods. The illusive voice apparently had nothing further to add, for it was heard no more.

"Um… Did we win?" queried Damon, proceeding to stand beside Celestial as she vainly peered between the trees in search of the entity that had transmitted its thoughts to her.

"I think so," replied Celestial dimly. A generous rustling brought her attention to the leaf-speckled ground, where Wicked, evidently not traumatized by his encounter, was giving his fur a wash.

"Little brother!" exclaimed Damon, lifting the upgraded feline to study him thoroughly. "Are you okay?"

As if in response, the cat neglected his bath and gave what Damon and Celestial had to categorize as an approximation of a nod. 'Yes.' Stunned, Damon released Wicked, who plunged ignobly to the earth once again.

"Did you hear that?" asked Damon, blinking rapidly. Celestial replied with a strangled, coughing noise, incapable of formulating an articulate sentence.

'You both heard it.' In a comical scene right out of a children's cartoon, Damon and Celestial frantically scanned the clearing before looking to their shoes and locating the culprit. 'It was me!'

"Wicked?" the two asked in unison, utterly dumbfounded.

'Duh. Didn't you know, Celestial, that this was one of the results of my upgrade?' Wicked transferred his thoughts to them telepathically, flaunting some sort of unexpectedly gained ability.

"Uh… No, I did not," confessed Celestial meekly, kneeling to stretch a hand out to Wicked. While the changes to his brain may have been extensive, more obvious still were the alterations to his physique. The variations between the Wicked of ten minutes previous and the Wicked currently standing before them were astronomical; the once-petite feline had virtually doubled in size, his coat had lengthened and had been glossed to an almost-reflective sheen, a regal, lion-esque mane now trailed from the bottoms of his fluted ears to his broad chest, and muscles rippled beneath his skin. He stood, incandescent and sleek, a minion of his race, as though awaiting a smattering of applause.

"You look awesome, little brother." Damon ventured with relative calm, like there was nothing odd about addressing a newly telepathic, enchanted housepet. Pleased, Wicked assumed his favorite position atop Celestial's shoulders; stretched full-length with paws urbanely crossed, akin to an Egyptian sphinx. This familiar action seemed to awaken the witch from her dumbstruck trance, and she kissed her companion's head, beaming elatedly.

"I have a talking cat."

'You have a telepathic cat,' corrected Wicked suavely, drawing his feathered tail across her nose. 'A telepathic cat who is so, so relieved to finally have the power to communicate.'

"You understood human speech?" Damon's brow creased confusedly as he spoke.

'Of course. I understood your language perfectly; I just did not possess any means through which I could express it myself.'

"While I'm sure we'd love to question Wicked all night about this telepathy thing, there is a more pressing matter at hand," Celestial interjected. "Those witch things? Who sent them, and why did they suddenly leave?"

With his eerily clever, coral-shaded eyes half-shut in monarchial sloth, Wicked replied, 'They were too proud to admit it, but you stumped them – and, consequently, whoever sent them – for the moment. But you can bet they will return soon enough.'

"Should we be worried?" asked Damon.

'No. Not for the time being, at least. Right now, they believe they are honestly trying to help Celestial. I am not sure how they will react, though, once they realize Celestial has no intention of returning to Reno before the tomb is opened. But, we can expect a few days of subsequent peace while they plan another interjection.'

"That should be enough time to fully examine the tomb," estimated Celestial. Underfoot, leaves and twigs crackled in a rousing accompaniment to the footsteps of vampire and witch as they meandered toward the Salvatore manor. Not one dim light pierced the instantaneous onslaught of midnight fog that had concealed the structure within minutes, implying either that the house itself slept in the manner of its occupants, or that it was experiencing some sort of poltergeist. A poltergeist that, given the night's recent proceedings, would not be wholly unexpected, thought Celestial exasperatedly.

"Are you doing this?" she accused, pivoting to brazen out Damon. Wicked, in an attempt to retain his equilibrium, instinctively buried his claws in the soft tissue of her shoulders. Wincing briefly, the witch seemed to deflate drastically as blood trickled in lean streams down her torso.

"No, it's not me!" insisted Damon. "Must be nature, or, you know, those vengeful witch things." After Wicked had apologetically vacated his perch, Damon examined the slices the cat had carved into Celestial's skin. Bloodlust threatened to overwhelm him as the delectable scent of the red liquid infiltrated his sinuses, and Damon opted out of breathing, depriving his suddenly ravenous lungs of oxygen.

"Your fangs are out," Celestial breathed, probing his lower lip tentatively. Damon remained stationary, reminding himself feverishly that now was not a suitable time to kiss or feed from her, two impulses he gallantly fought to eliminate.

"Stop," he pleaded, in the ghost of a whisper. "I can't control myself."

"Yes, you can," argued Celestial softly. "I trust you."

Following an almost intolerable recess, during which the burn in Damon's fangs had all but consumed him, she stepped away, and Damon found the will to reign in the monster inside him.

"See?" Euphoric, Celestial paraded in a loop around Damon as her puzzled pet watched. "You can do it! You wouldn't hurt me!"

Inwardly groaning, with a skyward roll of his eyes and a wordless prayer for serenity, Damon responded, "Yeah, Buffy. I guess you're right. Wouldn't go experimenting with that anytime soon, though."

Implementing an efficient bandage of moss to staunch the bleeding, Celestial challenged, "Why not?"

"Because it hurts both of us." At last spurning his veil of anger he thought would protect them both, Damon slung an arm around her waist, perhaps further south than one would consider publicly appropriate. "You're a little too reckless sometimes, you know what?"

Preventing a smile from gracing her lips, Celestial dragged his hand to a less suggestive position. "You know it."

"You're no fun," groused Damon, falsely churlish.

'Enough fun has been had by all for tonight,' teleflashed Wicked, accepting his role as the only tacitly available chaperone. 'I just want to retire before he sun rises.'

Stripping off his boots and shirt, Damon endeavored to catch a glimpse of Celestial as she donned her nightclothes. He was rewarded with an expanse of creamy flesh as her back became visible. Unfortunately for him, nothing he hadn't previously viewed was exposed, and Celestial turned with a flourish seconds later.

"Creeper," she reprimanded, tousling his hair as she would a toddler's.

"Take it as a compliment. It means you're hot."

"Yes, and having a vampire peep on her as she changes is every girl's dream."

"It is if I'm the vampire doing the peeping."

"Is not."

"Is, too."

"Is not."

"Is, too."

'I have had enough of this incessant, flirtatious quarreling,' Wicked snapped sharply, his message stabbing into their minds like a thousand invisible pinpricks, causing both to grimace and descend into sheepish quiet. Wicked situated himself in the less-than-suitable gap between their two forms and swiftly plunged into a dreamless doze.

"Goodnight, Damon," whispered Celestial, stroking her feline chaperone dotingly.

"I have one question: Are you sure you want to go back to the tomb tomorrow? We could hold off until you're stronger."

"I'm fine, I promise."

"Okay. Hey, what did that last witch-spirit say before it left? It talked to you, right?"

"That was more than one question. But, yes, it did," Celestial established reluctantly. "You wouldn't understand what it said. Witch thing." Rolling on her side, she mulled over the entity's words as the moon's luminosity washed over her like a benediction. Finally, with a grin, she welcomed the embrace of Morpheus, her last thought a fond recollection of the fiend's revelation. "He loves you."

**A/n**: Damn, do I know how to end a chapter, or what? Tell me what you think of this new-and-improved, cockblocking Wicked, please! Also, be prepared for an exciting next chapter (hint: Bonnie, Elena, and Stefan will return).


	8. the Perfect Storm

**A/n**: Hello, all. I've gotten no reviews concerning the new Wicked, and so I'm going to assume everyone loves him as I do (review if this is, or is not, the case). I tried to capture the essence of my best friend's cat, Clovis, a self-proclaimed emperor, in his personality. Is it working?

This chapter was very time-consuming, and I'm eager to hear how it is received. Please, please review. I'm begging yet again.

Enjoy.

Dawn had not yet arrived when Celestial woke. An abominable roar caused the manor's very foundations to tremble, and a furious downpour lashed against it from all angles. Upon peering through the portal of Damon's chamber window, Celestial was presented with the debris of a phenomenal storm, with hints to even more impending weather looming on the horizon. Trees folded under the sheer torment of a constant assault by battering winds, howling as their companions toppled ignobly to the saturated earth. Disembodied segments of God-knows-what littered the ground, a macabre mausoleum of everything from a mutilated letterbox to a fragmented, stainless steel deformity that appeared to have been trodden on by the New York City police horses. Pitiless clouds of the harshest black harassed the moon, and the great orb's former placidness had been obliterated. It reigned over its tortured kingdom as an iron-fisted totalitarian; a horrid, dementedly joyous malcontent in the sky.

"Oh, my God," breathed the witch, retreating from the windowsill in the manner of a frightened rabbit.

'Oh, my God, indeed,' agreed Wicked, emerging from his den beneath her pillow with involuntary panache. 'This started soon after you fell asleep. I have never witnessed such a rapid change in weather. In the blink of an eye, the night went from a balmy, East Coast gem to a scene straight out of the Day After Tomorrow.'

"Could it be the next intervention by whatever sent those spirits?" Casting her gaze over Damon's vulnerable, snoozing shape, Celestial modulated the volume of her words so as not to waken him.

'I do not believe so. It would be too soon.'

"But what else could it be? This is the perfect way to prevent me from going back to the tomb tonight. It's probably three feet deep in water and mud by now."

'Funny, a little rain has never stopped you before,' flashed Wicked. 'Stop your pacing. It is making me nauseous.'

Belatedly, Celestial realized she had, in fact, been paving a bizarre path across the faultless wood floor with her bare feet. "Oops. Sorry, Wicked."

Providing her with a nod, the feline curled into his replication of a fur cap and stared, hypnotized, outside. Celestial joined him, inattentively twirling Rubin's gift around her wrist.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt, Wicked. Who knows what those things we saw tonight can do? I… I don't want to die," she admitted frightfully. In her mind, she panicked: What was she thinking, traversing the country on a manic mission for adventure? She did not want to perish in battle with the faceless, anonymous, repugnant foe that probably had a legitimate excuse for opposing her meddling with the tomb.

'You are not anxious to die,' Wicked told her, and with a jolt of mortification, she realized the shields protecting her thoughts had evaporated into the night.

'You are anxious to matter,' concluded the cat sagely. 'It is impetuous and foolish of you, but I can guarantee that it will not be the death of you.'

"How can you promise that?"

'It is simple,' Wicked communicated this message with an image of a quantity of succulent-looking cake accompanying it. 'A piece of figurative cake, if you will. I have raised you better than that. You have more sense.'

Deciding against igniting the pointless bickering her denying this would result in, Celestial laughed and scratched Wicked's ears. "Yes, I hope I do. Thanks."

'Of course. Things have been stressful as of late. You earned a moment of nonsensical babbling. Or, to use the less literate term, 'freaking out.''

"When did you get so mature?"

'I suppose it could be a result of the head trauma I received from being dropped so frequently over the past six hours.'

"Liar. Cats always land on their feet."

An apocalyptic boom roused Damon several hours later, causing him to jerk upright, eyes white all around like a terrified colt's.

"Wha's happ'nin'?" he inquired groggily, scanning the room with a sense of urgency that was curtailed by fatigue.

"Storm," said Celestial, gesturing with her coffee cup to the window. Raindrops streaked in errant patterns across its transparent surface, distorting imagery of the vacuously chaotic outside world. Not a soul dared stir as the hurly-burly raged, the populace electing sensibly to remain within their taciturn homes.

"Hell of a storm," commented Damon. "I take it we won't be going to the tomb today, then?"

"I can try and get us in. Won't be fun, but I'm hoping the rain will have washed away some of the dirt and stuff obstructing it."

"You sure? Could be dangerous."

"Danger is my middle name, Damon. I'm positive. And, if you make a joke about 'HIV positive', I will kick you in the balls."

A chortle, one Damon did not bother to smother. "I won't, doll face. So, we leave tonight?"

"The moon won't be any help. Doesn't matter if we leave then or now."

One hour later, a band of five – two humans, two vampires, and one slender feline – struggled to navigate the treacherous footing of the storm-razed forest. A lull in the carnage provided a singular opportunity to assess the condition of the tomb, and, enigmatically, Stefan and Elena had opted to accompany Damon, Celestial, and Wicked. Originally, Damon had objected to their involvement, and inveigling him into permitting their presence had eaten up a good ten minutes of available time. Dutifully, Stefan had agreed to each of his sibling's outrageous prerequisites, the majority involving a ten-foot distance between the younger Salvatore and Celestial at all times, while Elena puttered idly about the room. Celestial's first impression of the girl had painted a picture of a stunningly attractive, dainty wallflower, but, as the two had resorted to gauche small talk in order to combat the terse silence between brothers, they began to take pleasure in each other's company.

"What was it like, growing up in Reno?" inquired Elena.

"Truthfully? I loved it. There was so much to do in such a big city, so I never had a dull moment. Some of the adventures my friends and I had weren't exactly appropriate," confessed the witch wistfully, "but, hey, we were teenagers."

"Ooh, Buffy has scandalous stories?" Damon quirked a brow, involved. "Do tell."

Sighing enviously, Elena continued without acknowledging Damon's wanton remark. "I want to experience city life someday. It would be so different from here, I imagine. Nothing ever happened here until the vampires showed up."

'This one got into a fair amount of trouble in her youth,' betrayed Wicked from Celestial's neck, where he was coiled like a living, mammalian scarf. The girl in question smirked affirmatively, gazing into the darkened skies with eyes brimming with nostalgia.

"Someone has stories!" Elena giggled girlishly.

"I do. But, what happens in Reno stays in Reno, unless it's an STD," said the witch secretively, reanimating a beloved pretext of Sebastian's.

"Aww. A single story?" begged Elena. "Just one?"

"All right, fine," surrendered Celestial, mentally sifting through the plethora of particularly juicy escapades entrenched in her brain. "So, it was Shannon's eighteenth birthday, and Sebastian had commissioned one of those giant cakes that strippers jump out of, you know? But we coerced her boyfriend, Braden, into jumping out of this one…"

The five emerged from the dense array of flora encompassing the tomb just as Celestial's riveting tale – a tale that, to Damon's immense puzzlement, somehow managed to incorporate a female flamingo named Jeffrey, a baby pool filled with vodka cranberry, and the boy-band sensation One Direction – reached its conclusion. Elena appeared supremely entertained, and even Stefan gave the impression of being authentically fascinated. To Damon's chagrin, he had missed the bulk of the story, for he'd been engrossed in pinpointing the source of the strong sense of foreboding gnawing at him. However, he'd been searching without results since the start of their trek, and he elected not to alarm his companions by informing them. Paranoia had plagued him previously, and none in his company seemed similarly concerned, so the vampire quashed his inklings of apprehension and berated himself for being so fretful.

"In summary: that is the reason I will never sleep with anyone named Liam ever, ever again," finished Celestial, with a self-effacing curtsey. Her audience applauded vigorously, with the addition of a lewd wolf-whistle, courtesy of Stefan.

Unexpectedly relieved to be in the dark regarding the romantic encounter between his witch and some heartthrob with a puny, pitiful crumb of a name like Liam, Damon proceeded past his companions, only to perform an exceptional – albeit unintentional – face-plant in the moist soil. An explosion of hilarity tailed him, and he scowled into the slick mud.

"Yeah, cackle your asses off," he growled fiercely. "I hope you all choke on saliva."

"No, you don't," contradicted Celestial lightly, stretching out a hand in tacit offering.

Damon stood, accepting her aid and clinging to her for longer than what was necessary for bearing. Flashing him that one excruciatingly dazzling smile he so adored, she pivoted to assay the ravaged stonework before her. Sinuously, Wicked leaped, implementing her shoulder as a crude trampoline, and soared heroically before landing atop a jutting protuberance. His paws briefly scrabbled for purchase, his body wilting precariously, but he presently righted himself.

'This does not appear overly accessible,' the feline surmised. Even the stone figure on which he reclined, though clearly the soundest structurally, was partially submerged by a turbid expanse of dirt- and foliage-filled rainwater. Celestial gingerly maneuvered between the boulders of Fell's Church, tugging forcibly with each arduous step to free her boots from the sludge.

As he skirted around a pit which had morphed into a pond of questionable sanitation, Damon reached with his mind to observe the hexes operating to seal the tomb. Despite the weather, he could still detect the cagey omnipresence of the entity that he'd mentioned to Celestial following their first excursion here. Evidently, he reasoned, it was a stationary being, perhaps bound to the tomb.

"Guys!" exclaimed Celestial, her voice tinged with wondering discovery. As four vastly diverse faces turned towards her, she gestured fanatically into the cavity Damon had been orbiting. "These secondary spells – the more powerful set? They were not placed here in eighteen sixty-four."

"What? That's impossible," dismissed Stefan with ardent candor.

"It's true," argued Celestial. "I'd say they're about five months old."

"I came back to Mystic Falls five months ago," Damon chimed in. "Think it's a coinci –" Out of the blue, a skeletal, humanoid form slammed with premeditated brutality into his side. Their combined mass sent both hurtling into the pond-like depression with a colossal splatter, and the water thrashed and heaved like an enraged rodeo stallion as they fought beneath its surface.

Stefan shoved Elena roughly behind a sturdy, matronly pine in the moments before he, too, was knocked off his feet by a mysterious, emaciated figure of bone. To his right, Wicked dueled his own foe, a screeching creature with orange tabby and white fur, atop a carpet of leaves.

Falling back into a vigilant cat-stance, Celestial was immediately slashed with a blade crafted of spiteful gloom. Recompensing the pain of a fresh laceration above her eye, she lashed out with her electrical whip, which had condensed into existence in her hand the instant Damon was blindsided. An expression of agony indicated she'd made contact with her intended target, but whoever it was flaunted years of combat instruction by recuperating with astonishing speed. They darted at her, and the witch had a split second to prepare herself before the impact sent her sprawling. Kicking out, she brought her opponent to the ground, and skillfully coiled her weapon around their forearm. She transferred a great column of flame across its length, hearing her attacker howl in potent anguish as their flesh was seared to the bone. An impenetrable sphere of ice collided with the left side of her skull, but still the disoriented witch championed her siege on her foe's ramparts. In the air above Celestial, a dagger of the blackest iron was conjured and plunged between her ribs. Shrieking, the witch diverted some of her powers to hinder the pain reverberating through her body, but still focused the greater part of her awareness on vanquishing her rival. Her might was declining quickly, but theirs faded more quickly still, and soon all that penetrated Celestial's body was the dagger itself, sans the supplementary, embittered venom formerly coursing through her. Her adversary lay wounded upon the muck, their right forearm a jumble of blood and gore. Sporadic groans were ripped from their lungs, and, as if commanded to depart, the skeletal beings deserted their respective battles and buckled into piles of trampled bone.

"Report," called Celestial feebly, endeavoring through greatly contrived effort to regain her composure.

"I'm okay," replied Stefan, distractedly snapping an arm back into arrangement. "A bit battered, but I'll heal." Tardily, his dark eyes traveled to the lower half of her blouse, which was awash with scarlet. "Are you okay?" He asked frenetically, racing to her.

"Yeah," she grunted, probing the region around the embedded knife experimentally. "I'll be fine. Where's Damon?"

As if on cue, a waterlogged Damon emerged from his crater. A thin rivulet of blood trickled languidly from his mouth, and he was perceptibly bruised and beaten to the same extent as Stefan. "Son of a bitch got scared and disappeared," he snarled. Then, catching sight of Celestial, he rocketed forth and assayed her agitatedly.

"Who did this to you?" he roared, infuriated.

"Him," said Celestial, gesturing to her bested antagonist. Now that she could sufficiently view her enemy, she was able to discern that he was a male, approximately twenty and three years of age, of Hawaiian pedigree. His hair was dark, dappled with filth and splatters of blood, and his eyes were an arresting, salient violet. Limping to tower over him, she stood with her lash at the ready. The Salvatore brothers flanked her in the style of violent mercenaries, with Elena hovering a few feet behind.

"Who are you?" she demanded piercingly, prodding him with the toe of her boot.

"Who wants to know?" he spat, unfazed, with captivating eyes burning.

"I do. And unless you want me to have my boys here drink you dry or turn you into one of them," she threatened, pouncing on the undisputed greatest dread of all witches, "you'll tell me."

Writhing in a fruitless endeavor to flee or voice his umbrage, the warlock rumbled, "Bane. Bane Nishipali. But, kill me if you like, no matter how much you torture me, you'll never find out who I work for."

"He means it," Damon observed brusquely. "This guy is serious business."

"Damn straight," Bane agreed. To silence him, Stefan jabbed a foot into his mutilated arm, and the warlock clenched his teeth to restrain a moan.

"Do we kill him? He obviously brought the skeletons, and I want revenge," Damon proclaimed, gnashing his fangs in sinister pleasure.

"No," said Celestial decisively. "I may talk a big game, but I'm not up to killing someone. Or watching it," she added with haste, as the brothers tensed.

"Me, neither," Elena chipped in, determined to share her two pennies' worth.

"Thank you," said Bane gravely, climbing to his feet and snapping his fingers. The crisp resonance served as some sort of summons, after a minute, a lithe shape weaved itself between his legs. It was a cat, a good deal more diminutive than Wicked and imprecisely elfin in appearance, with carroty, striped patches that somehow harmonized flawlessly with immaculate white paws and a delicate face. Its neck had been torn in a multitude of places, and it was holding a hind paw aloft to circumvent putting strain on it. "We owe you a great deal."

"Why did you do this?" Celestial sought to know.

Bane sighed pensively, running his functioning hand through his grubby mane. "I was commanded by my superior. When she tells me to do something, I do it, no questions asked. She knows where my family is."

In spite of herself, Celestial's armor was pierced by a minute splinter of sympathy. This was a witch, one of her proclaimed kin, and she fostered no aspiration to cause him despondency.

"It would be wise of you to avoid us from now on," she told him quietly. "I do not wish to harm you, but I cannot say the same for these two."

"I understand," he replied, in equal volume. "Thank you for sparing me. I can never repay you."

"Yes, well, I wouldn't want to hear of the consequences when whoever you work for learns you were defeated." Celestial chuckled without mirth, a repentant noise.

"I will survive," reassured Bane. "She needs my magic."

"I hope so, for your sake," replied Celestial.

"You will see me again," he warned. "My master is persistent." Folding his operating arm in front of his chest, he watched with hushed fondness as the cat hopped with poise to alight on it. "Are you all right, Ballerina?" he asked of the feline.

'Yes,' responded the third Witch's Cat Celestial had seen in her eighteen years. Ballerina glanced superciliously at Wicked, rosy nose raised, oozing princess-like clout. 'The bigger they are, the harder they fall.'

Snorting, Wicked rose from his sepulcher of grime and shrubbery and migrated to settle on his haunches next to Celestial's neatly booted calf. He, as well, was sporting the evidence of his encounter with, several bloody spots and a frayed ear. 'I do not possess the uncouth quirks required to seriously injure a female.'

'Whatever floats your boat,' retorted Ballerina, laboriously cleaning the rapidly drying mud from one paw.

Nodding curtly to Bane, Celestial pivoted to leave, but halted when the knife was yanked unceremoniously from her stomach. Expecting a blitz of throbbing pain, she winced, but was pleasurably surprised when it did not arrive. Bane held the red-coated blade in his injured hand, and crimson trailed from his unscathed nose, a result of expending a surfeit of magic in too short an interval.

"You shouldn't have done that," she chided. "You'll pass out."

"I've been worse off than this and had no ill effects," said Bane offhandedly. "I owed it to you. I can't mend you completely, but it should heal, if not a little slower than typical stab wounds."

"I'm not sure what I'd categorize as a 'typical stab wound'," teased Celestial amiably. "But thank you. Be well, brother."

"You, too, sister." Gently but tenaciously herding her aside, he whispered to a point of near inaudibility, "Do not continue your involvement with vampires. Please, for your own good, do not. They manipulate, and they lie. Do not resign yourself to my fate."

"Your fate?"

"This is my final mission," disclosed Bane, "I am aware that when I return on my master's orders to confront you again, I will perish at the hands of your vampires. Do not die like me." With that, the grievously wounded warlock vanished into the atmosphere, a skill Celestial at once determined to acquire for herself.

"So," began Damon lightheartedly, "can we get into the tomb easier now?"

"Um, yes," confirmed Celestial, "Bane's spells are gone."

"Was he the one who sent those spirits last night?" Stefan asked.

"Yes. He was trying to help me. He doesn't want me to have his fate."

Ignoring her comment on destiny, Damon continued, "Great! So, we go home, heal up, and tomorrow, we open this son of a bitch and save Katherine!"

Celestial did not share his keenness, though she presented a veneer of merriment to placate him. Inwardly, she pondered her future encounter with Bane - an encounter he had predicted to be fatal - and could not help but, examining Damon's cruelly curved fangs, hope his master mercifully snapped his neck tonight.

**A/n**: And so ends chapter eight. This chapter is extremely complicated, and may be confusing, but all will be revealed in due time. I have no idea how I am doing without reviews, so, for the sake of my sanity – and the health of Bane, Ballerina, Celestial, and Wicked – provide me with some reassurance/criticism?

Also, I apologize to all One Direction fans that are angry with me for using Liam. I know he has a girlfriend, but I needed some comic relief in this chapter. Damon was jealous!


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